If Tifa Had The Stigma
by WellingtonBoot
Summary: What if Tifa had caught geostigma instead of Cloud? Set pre-Advent Children, Tifa takes on the roles of Denzel and Marlene's adoptive mother, Cloud's love and support and the hostess of Seventh Heaven bar. Sometimes there's only so much one woman can do.
1. Catch

**Author's Note: **I realize that this has been done before and by no means will this be the last, but I wanted to throw my own story out there, too. This is in fact the product of letting my mind wonder while reading someone else's version of this scenario! I hope you all enjoy.

* * *

**Catch  
**

_Officials from the International Monetary Fund and Gaian Central Bank were due in on Monday June 14th to discuss details of another aid package intended to help the victims of Meteor who are still living in the desolate areas around Midgar, the old capital, and contribute to the expansion of Edge, the new capital, and the stabilisation of its economy. Talks are predicted..._

And so the radio rattled on.

Tifa reached across the bar to polish another glass, and then another, and another, and yet another. She wasn't sure if she was really listening to the radio any more, it all sounded the same after a while. In the end Midgar was gone, many people were gone, many lives had been ruined beyond repair and now Edge, the little city that was rapidly expanding into a metropolis in its own right, was attempting to succeed in its place.

She sighed. A few soft footsteps padded down the stairs and she turned to look at the boy who emerged.

"Hey, Tifa?"

It was Denzel. He was peering at her through his scruffy mop of brown hair. His pyjamas were all screwed up from sleeping and he was clutching his forehead lightly with his hands. Tifa's maternal side welled up inside of her.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

He nodded. She bit her lip slightly and then ushered him back upstairs to the bathroom. She hated knowing he was in pain, but there was nothing more she could do other than nurse him as his real mother would have done.

She soaked a cloth and rubbed it gently over the dark mark spreading across his forehead. He winced every now and then and she wasn't sure how to be more gentle with him without avoiding touching the stimga at all. He hissed, and seeing his hand reach up suddenly, reflexively to the pain she caught it with her own and held it in place. He held her hand very tightly in turn to distract himself from what was making him wince, from this horrible, incurable and destructive disease eating away at him.

She dabbed away the residual water with another cloth and then lowered his hand in hers, gently releasing it.

"Better?" she asked softly.

He nodded, as he always nodded, in the way that reminded her of Cloud. He remained quiet, but thankful, and ambled back to his and Marlene's bedroom. She'd check on him again in a few minutes to see that he'd got back to bed. He had hardly been sleeping recently.

* * *

"How's Denzel been?" Cloud asked as he watched Tifa hurry around the kitchen.

"He was asleep for at least five hours today," she tried to say cheerfully.

His intense eyes relaxed a little and then he focused himself more on her.

"And you, have you been okay?"

"I'm fine, Cloud. I'm just glad he's not getting significantly worse at the moment."

Cloud was quiet for a moment.

"You haven't been feeling... light-headed or anything?"

She promptly reached for a large pan on the wall behind him and set it down on a hot ring on the stove.

"No, Cloud. Really, I'm fine. I really don't think it's contagious or we'd all have it by now," she smiled.

He nodded.

"I'll... get out of your way then," he tried to excuse himself awkwardly.

"Cloud," she said in her sweet tone, reaching for his arm and then embracing him. "Welcome home."

She felt his body relax under her own while his arms locked themselves firmly behind the small of her back.

"I'm glad to be home."

They parted and then Cloud walked out of the kitchen, a cute smile still playing on the corners of his mouth as he absent-mindedly scratched the back of his head. Ever since he had told her at the end of the Jenova War that things were going to be different now that he had her with him and, he made sure to clarify, in a way different from before, things had progressed rapidly between them and now they were properly together. Though in rare moments, at times when they got close, he was still the slightly nervous Cloud she'd known as a young girl - which wasn't necessarily a bad thing – and really, she didn't mind the awkward way he could still be because no matter how he acted he was still Cloud, and having him around made her feel happy and safe; although she was still concerned that sometimes, just sometimes, he actually appeared to be becoming more distant from her. At least when Denzel had arrived things had gone back to the way they had been before. She had even swept the last few arguments she and Cloud had had before Denzel had come to the back of her mind. After Denzel's arrival all of them had also felt more like a real family, and Tifa hadn't minded that at all.

* * *

She was washing the dishes again.

She was listening to the radio again.

"Tifa?" Marlene's voice called from upstairs.

"Yes?"

There was a slight pause before she heard an answer. As she was waiting Tifa suddenly felt a small jolt in her side. She quickly pulled her fingers away from the taps. It had felt like a small static electric shock.

"Is Cloud coming back tonight?"

"I think so," was her answer.

There was another pause.

"Okay."

Tifa pursed her lips a little as she took back up her cloth and polished down the sink. She then felt the jolt again, it was powerful, sickening, as if she had been kicked or thwacked in the side violently with a heavy metal bar. It struck hard at her bones. Her shoulders twitched inwards. She clutched to the left of her waist with both her hands, feeling herself sink to the floor agonisingly slowly, inch by inch, while the the bar's interior was abruptly sucked of all its color revealing a blurry mess of blacks, whites and grays merging with each other at chaotic intervals in her vision. She couldn't breath, there was no air. It had been crushed from her chest. Everything real was sucked into the hungry chasm in her side. She was going to be sick, all she could taste and smell was a vile, putrid gunk pushing through her flesh. She was afraid, she couldn't think; she was terrified.

The pain stopped.

She let out a large breath which turned into a desperate pant. She steadied her breathing and then observed her position: she was half on the floor, half on her knees, clutching desperately at her side. She took another deep breath, reaching up with her elbow to rub away the small beads of sweat now on her forehead. She froze. A sticky, thick and vile ooze was clinging to her fingertips, wrists and down her forearms. The feeling of nausea arose again and she had to turn away before she gagged. Turning back to look at it properly she already knew what it was and what it meant. Her world stopped. Three heavy, sinking thuds of her heart and the whole room had changed, become colder. The air was deadly still. She stood up carefully, regaining her composure, keeping her hands at her side.

"Marlene?" she called calmly.

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you call Barrett? You can use my phone, it's in my room. Let Denzel chat to him, too."

"Okay then," Marlene called back down cheerfully.

Tifa knew Marlene loved talking to her dad. She also knew that Marlene would stay in that room, her and Denzel's room, while she chatted to him. If Denzel knew he could speak to him too he'd also stay in there, the chances of him leaving to wonder around the bar being much less. That was all that mattered, that was all she needed.

With almost a bow down to cursed fate she turned carefully on her heels and walked calmly from the bar, up the stairs, and to the bathroom. Not once did she lose her collectedness. She showered like it was nothing; she washed her hair like it was nothing; she brushed her teeth like it was nothing, and then she wrapped a bandage around her waist as she watched herself in the mirror. She felt as if she had been thrown out of reality when she saw the dark, grayish, no longer oozing mark blemishing her otherwise pale, healthy skin.

_It can't be helped_, she thought to herself, and that would be the end of that, she decided. She swore to herself that she wouldn't think about it unless she had to, in times when she knew she'd have to act in order to hide it. It was a comfort that she'd at least she'd be able to hide the bandages with a slightly longer tank top since she knew she could never reveal her sudden sickness to Cloud or the children. It was her burden and her burden alone, and there was no point in worrying her new-found family, especially Cloud considering how protective he was of her. She was the glue for them all and she knew it.

The glue can never fall apart, or else everything will fall apart along with it.


	2. Dark Secrets

**Dark Secrets**

Fenrir groaned as it gained permission to sleep from its master. Cloud removed the ignition key and rolled it safely into the garage. The night had been a dry one so he'd been able to drive home quickly, it was just a shame he had got held up earlier in the day, otherwise he could have been back sooner.

He walked in his exhausted state from the garage to the bar, from the bar to the landing and then took a quick left into his office. He pulled the invoices he'd stuffed in his pocked onto the table and emptied the cash payments from his wallet into an envelope and slipped it into the desk's draw. He pulled his dusty boots from his feet as he balanced on a nearby chair and tidied them to the side. Tifa would probably scold him in the morning for leaving dusty footprints through the house but considering how cute she looked when she was annoyed it didn't seem so bad. With a good feeling melting through his chest he took in that he was home.

Having only his socks on he tiptoed quietly from his office up the small stairs opposite to a door behind which he knew Tifa was sleeping soundly. He pushed the door gently so as not to make a noise and gently shut it again. She was coiled in the white sheets like a doll, her face taking a porcelain look as moonlight seeped faintly through the curtains. She was beautiful. He smiled a little as he watched her sleep and came alongside the bed, removing his gloves onto his bedside table. He stripped down to his underwear and then slipped into the bed next to her.

He wasn't meant to do this either, slip into bed late at night when she was already asleep, his cot in the office was for that, but he wanted to feel her warmth nearby, her scent, and her soft and welcoming, embracing arms while she slept.

He tucked himself behind her, fitting his body perfectly against hers so that he could reach his arm around her if he wanted to. His face buried into the exposed flesh of her neck and in her sleep she tilted her head back a little and gave a small sigh.

It encouraged him, and soon he was dragging his fingertips lightly down from her shoulder, past her elbow and crossing from her relaxed fingers to the smooth and firm tone of her thighs. In her sleep he watched the edges of her mouth curve up a little. She began to wake.

"Cloud?" she murmured.

"Who else?" he whispered in her ear and she laughed.

Meanwhile his hand traced back up her arm.

"Why are you waking me up?" she whispered back, pretending to be annoyed.

His hand had found her jawline and began to trace along the soft edges.

"It's cold in the office," he answered softly.

His index finger began to trace a long line down her slender throat.

"You could have put the radiator on," she suggested innocently.

"I'd rather save on the energy bills," he murmured against her earlobe.

Callus fingertips skipped teasingly over her top and began to trace upwards from the base of her tummy to her navel.

To her navel.

She seized his hand quickly with her own.

"I'm tired, Cloud," she said forcefully calm, easing her grip, "and I can't afford to be worn-out tomorrow," she attempted to tease. His hand stayed in hers as she waited anxiously for him to say something.

"Okay, Tifa," he said affectionately as he kissed the nape of her neck, and he settled himself closer into the shape of her body with his own. She became aware of his hand again as it moved out of hers to drape itself more generally around her tummy. Carefully she moved her arm as he did his own, making sure that it ended up just beneath his as he rested it on her, further ensuring he wouldn't detect the thin layer of bandages that were wrapped around her waist.

Soon she felt his sleepy breathing against the back of her neck. It took a couple of hours for her to follow him, her thoughts keeping her awake. The call had been too close.

* * *

When it oozed there was the bandage there to stop it and soak it up. When it hurt it she made sure it was not painful enough to break the smile she was holding on her face. When she saw how it had grown that little bit more over the past few weeks she had looked stoically at it in the mirror, slipped her top back on and got back to work.

They, her family, were still oblivious to her illness just as she'd rather have them. Her dirty bandages were always incinerated in the core of the stove; she washed her sheets often in case of stains that formed when the infection wept onto them in her sleep, and at the times when she'd had a bad enough attack to fall to the floor she was usually and luckily on her own anyway, and she'd mop up the mess, clean her clothes, shower, and grab something else to wear before anyone could to suspect anything. It certainly wasn't ideal, it was hard, but it was worth it to keep her secret.

Laying a new blanket over Denzel's bed she watched him as he slept. She would usually come back from the lunch period, or from doing a certain task to find more black liquid trickling down from his forehead. It made her sad, it made her very sad. At first deep inside she thought it hurt because he was only a child, a child she thought had been given to her as a way of penance for her own sins if she were to take care of him, but in time he'd become something much much more to her; in a way he felt like her own son, and it complimented the way that Marlene felt like her own daughter, and how both children acted as if they were siblings to each other.

She continued to watch him sleep even though she knew she had other things to be doing. Seeing him at peace put her at peace however, and a part of her needed that right now. She reached out with her hand to gently move some strands of hair from his forehead. Then the pain came again, a sharp, viscous, bloodthirsty stabbing in her side that caused her whole body to seize as if paralysed. She felt like she was choking on pure air. It subsided momentarily but then came back, and she had to fight the need to cry out, to groan out her anguish. The world span wildly from beneath her. She felt her limbs falter under the weight of gravity. The familiar putrid taste rose abruptly in the back of her throat and she doubled over. Soon she hit the floor, her hands digging into her left side, her lungs aching in tension and the world blacked out.

* * *

How long had she been there? She dragged herself from the bedroom floor immediately and looked at Denzel's face. He was still asleep, his small, raspy breaths soothing her heartbeat, her anxiety. Realising she was still clutching her side, she looked down to the carpet and was horrified by the evidence of her attack, the transference of pussy muck now clinging in between the fine fibres of the rug. Her top was also soaked through with the same vile liquid. She felt empty and cold. She shook the feeling away and rolled the rug up quickly, tucking it under one arm. With one last glance to check Denzel was sleeping she stepped out of the room and sprinted down to the washing room.

She threw the rug into the machine and then stuffed it with whatever other washing she could find in the wash baskets. Promptly she threw off her own top and stuffed it into the machine as well. She added soap to the tray, and plenty of it, and then turned the dial to the hottest presetting before pressing "wash". The washing machine's drum began to roll and rumble to life. She felt better, but there was still residual, thick liquid on her hands, arms and tummy from where it had seeped through her bandage.

She showered; she washed; she scrubbed her skin hard, and then she nursed the dark curse until it quietened down to leave a faint, though still painful, feeling of pinpricks across her side. Yet again she began her ceremonious wrapping of bandages around her tummy when she found the roll of bandage cloth was spent. No more bandages. She lifted her arm and looked more intensely into the mirror. She allowed herself to look at her plague properly for the first time in days, for she had been avoiding it. The mark had spread to almost twice its girth, and the tips had eaten all the way up to her chest.

She let out a small exhale.

It was already worse than Denzel's and it'd only been a month or so. It seemed, just maybe, her time may be up before his. But no, it was futile to think like that. It was so negative and defeated. Dying? Her dying? After all she had been through; falling from a drawbridge and into a seven day coma at eight, being sliced open at sixteen by a madman, nearly being gassed to death in a sealed chamber by Shinra, falling into the life stream after Cloud, and facing the same madman again amongst other life or death situations as she helped save the world; could things have really turned out like this? She shook her head in a weak defiance. She couldn't think about dying, she just couldn't. Not now. She wouldn't let herself.

But... did she really have a choice? Was she being selfish?

Did she really want Cloud to wake up one night and find her dead in his arms? No, of course she didn't... She didn't want the children to know, see, experience, feel it when a loved one dies either, especially a... mother figure.

The air became more lifeless as she absent-mindedly wrapped her arms around herself in the cold of her half-nakedness. The mark burned under her scrutiny as she stared at it.

No, she just couldn't think about it.

* * *

The next afternoon Denzel looked considerably better, he was out of bed and helping round the house and even went for a small walk to the shops with Marlene. When they came back Tifa noticed their cheeks were both rosy from walking, and for a moment she forgot that Denzel was sick and dying, and that Marlene had to cope with the potential loss of one who now felt like a brother to her.

As she watched them walk away upstairs the pain came again and she had to brace herself on the bar surface and suck the air in through her teeth. Every time the more miniature attacks happened it was the same thing; a horrible boiling sensation rose through the infected flesh, a grasping sensation seized on to the life in the rest of her body, and that sickly feeling rose in her throat as she felt the black puss soaking into the bandages under her top. A deep breath and it was all over, but she could still feel the evidence wet against her skin.

For the first time in weeks she thought she might cry.

She hid her eyes in her forearms that were still bracing against the wood of the bar and swallowed down a tear. Then the children came back in.

"Tifa, do you know where -" Marlene cut her sentence short when she saw in an instant that Tifa was upset. She looked up to her guardian with a curious upset herself. "What is it, Tifa?" she asked tentatively.

Tifa found herself unable to do anything, including answer Marlene or even breathe properly. She thought that if she attempted to swallow some air it would turn into a choke, and then another tear, and then the children would both see her crying. She couldn't let them see her so weak.

"I'm fine. Just tired, Marlene," she managed, turning the ache to burst into tears into a deep and hollow tone that portrayed tiredness.

A moment passed, and then she felt two pairs of small arms suddenly clutch around her hips. In her surprise the tension of misery fled and she looked down at both a brown ponytail and a brown mop of hair, each on either side of her. She quickly wiped a tear away from the corner of her eye so that she could speak to them.

"I'm fine..." she repeated, lightly holding their heads in her palms. She had attempted to sound reassuring, except an unsure note in her voice crept though, making her words a tired, faint sounding utterance.

"Love you, Tifa," Marlene murmured into her side, and a completely new feeling took hold of Tifa.

Both children pulled away and began to head for the staircase. Before he reached it, Denzel turned to face Tifa himself.

"Love you, Tifa," he said shyly and ran up the stairs after Marlene.

When she heard their bedroom door shut she gasped and her eyelids fluttered shut. Pinpricks at the corners of her eyes returned while a large tension pulled on her heart and almost snapped it.

She didn't want to think about losing her life because... she didn't want to lose_ them_.


	3. Suspicions Revealed

**Suspicions Revealed**

She woke up with a start. Her mother, her own mother who she hadn't seen in years... She had felt her presence as she had woken up and then felt it dissolve again into the sightless depths of the room. Sighing, she laid back and pulled the bedclothes back over herself in the way she used to as a child and snuggled into her own body heat, for Cloud, like most nights, was no longer there, next to her, any more. It just was safer that way now, even if it was lonelier.

She buried her head further into her pillow.

"Well... I hope you'll be glad to see me soon, Mom," she choked.

* * *

It had been three months. She was almost proud for having survived that long.

It was better that Cloud was keeping his distance. She hadn't had to say anything. As Cloud had felt her reject him more and more, as much as she cursed herself deep down for it, he had begun to get back later and later, late enough so that he knew he shouldn't wake her, and so choosing to sleep in the cot in his room instead of the one they normally shared, or so he disguised it as. It hurt, but in a way it brought her peace because she knew she didn't have to worry about him discovering her secret, and she didn't want to explain. Asleep in bed there was always the chance she may have a random attack, or so she had heard, and either way it was becoming more and more often that she'd wake up and find stains not only on her top but all over the sheets as well. She didn't want Cloud to see that, to see that she was as susceptible to leaving the world at any moment just as much as Denzel, or any other person infected with geostigma. He was strong, she knew that, but she still didn't want to upset him in any way; he was still sensitive, and she knew she was the love of his life; although sometimes she wondered if she was just frightened of what he would do if he ever found out that she had kept it from him for so long.

It had been tough juggling running the bar, looking after the children, looking after Denzel in particular as he got worse, hiding and covering her bandages as the attacks came more often, washing sheets, washing clothes, washing towels, flannels and even the occasional smear of evidence on a rug or pillow. However, it was nearing winter now so she would to get away with wearing extra layers without raising suspicion. She needed that now more than ever since the stigma was even larger than before.

One thing that was compromising her charade was however was how much weaker she was becoming. Unlike Denzel she couldn't afford to lie in bed, she had to make sure she was up and busy and seemed absolutely healthy. If Cloud or the children asked if she was okay when she looked tired she would just say that it had been a busy week, and then carry on with whatever she was doing and maybe even grab a cup of strong coffee to give herself a boost. When she had a miniature attack while working she'd either rush to the store room or kitchen, whichever was closest, or, if she didn't feel it coming on before it struck, stand at the bar and dig her nails into the woodwork as it passed. If anyone noticed she'd say she had stubbed her toe and then head to the wash room to change her bandages. She had always kept a first aid kid in there. No one suspected a thing.

She just found it annoying that the muscles underneath and around the mark were beginning to fail her, deteriorating as each day passed. She had to distribute most of her lifting power to her right arm to compensate whenever lifting now, no matter how heavy or light an object was. She realised it would become noticeable to others over time if she didn't adjust quickly enough. It was just as well Cloud spent less time around her as it meant she could plan to restock the cabinets and shelves whenever he was out for the day or in his office which was almost all the time now. She knew how perceptive he was, and if anyone would have caught her out it would have been him.

"Tifa?"

She whipped round to see him, Cloud himself, standing right behind her. She had to stop getting so lost in her thoughts like that, too.

"Yes?" she asked quietly, her shaky tone betraying her calm mask.

"Is everything okay?"

His expression was like the one she had kept seeing him wearing lately as he looked at her. It was distant and yet she could see a hurt in it, and a want, and it made her uncomfortable because she knew it was her own doing, and she also knew it reflected how she felt in return. She missed him.

"I was just thinking, that's all," she smiled.

He came closer until all she could see were his bright, stunning blue eyes of mako. She felt her lower back hit the kitchen counter and suddenly there was no where else to go.

"You'd tell me if there was something wrong?" he asked intently, his intense eyes piercing deep into her own.

"Yes..." she managed with a hushed breath, hoping on the heavens he wouldn't be able to see through her lie.

He kept his eyes entranced with hers a little longer before tilting his jaw in a little nod. The heaviness in his eyes lightened and she felt his arms lock behind her back. To her it felt as if it had been so long since she'd been this close to him. His eyes half disappeared under his eyelids as he leaned in to her. Alarms started to go off frantically in her head but they were ignored. She couldn't avoid him any longer, pretend she was not bothered by being starved of his touch, his love for as long as she had. She wanted to be close to him, the man she had always loved, just once more before her life was truly over, was that so wrong? His lips began to take hers in a small kiss. Then the kiss grew, his tenderness sending and comfort and warmth rushing through her like a drug. She couldn't let go of him. They had both been starved of affection, and this was the end result.

His arms loosened slightly and she felt the tips of his fingers tracing along the band of her apron, up to the fabric of her top, and then, millimetre by millimetre, he began to lift the fabric so delicately that she didn't register what he was doing until she felt the final tug of the fabric around her ribcage. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She was so exposed, her illness on plain display to any onlooker, but Cloud was too wrapped up in kissing her to be remotely aware. She had to use that to escape and quickly. Her arms that had been threaded tightly around and behind his neck came apart slowly and she began to draw them back to her sides, her fingers brushing his neck and shoulders as she did so. They then found his hands still holding onto her top, and she curled them around his to form a finger-lock, something intimate enough not to raise his suspicions of her rejection of him to quickly. As he forgot everything else and mutually threaded his fingers through hers, she felt her top fall back down with a flood of relief. Cloud immediately sensed the easing of tension in her body and broke the kiss. The pressure of the hold of his hands on hers strengthened as he realised what she was doing, yet again.

"I have things to do," she said with forced calm, a slight ring of apology to it.

His eyes turned distant.

"Okay." His voice was deep and submissive.

Her eyes flickered away from his gaze as he began to edge away from her, and then, like that, he was gone, his back to her, walking out of the kitchen and to his office. She brought her hands to her face, remembering the precious moment she had just had with him. She would never want to do this to him, ever, but it was better than him getting too close and finding out the truth. Or so she told herself.

* * *

"They say geostigma isn't infectious," a news presenter said inquisitively to the scientist sitting opposite him on the TV.

"No, it isn't," a plain man with glasses agreed. "Or at least not in the typical way a disease spreads via proximity." The scientist was sat in a round, red leather chair.

"How do you mean?" the news presenter pressed.

"Well, there are theories that the development of this disease is more psychological than we first thought."

"Psychological?" The news presenter questioned with pretentious interest.

"Yes. The results aren't conclusive yet but from the research my team and I have been conducting we have found a common trend of acute despair and depression in the victims. It would also explain why the highest percentage victims are survivors of Meteor, then the second highest percentage are those who knew people who died during the disaster or who have already died as a result of the disease itself, and then the third highest are those who are currently around loved ones who are already infected and/or they are taking care of."

"Yet I understand none of this is conclusive yet," the presenter made sure to repeat.

"Well, of course. We have only studied a hundred or so victims so far. In order to have a stronger conclusion..."

And so the TV rattled on.

Tifa sat on the corner of a chair holding a mug of coffee snugly in between her palms as she watched trails of milk swirl round and round in the liquid with the slightest tilts of her wrists. Then she stopped abruptly and took a sip, a long, drawn-out sip of strong coffee which sent a buzz through her exhausted, deteriorating body.

Without looking with her eyes she focused her attention back to the subject being discussed on the TV. Her eyes were clouded-over from fatigue. Her voice was rough like sandpaper.

"How interesting."

* * *

Another attack. They were so often now she was too tired to feel the pain any more. The mark had spread up and around her shoulders and to the base of her neck. Why was it consuming her so much more quickly than it did Denzel or many others? It was a good thing, of course; she'd happily speed up her one-way journey to death if it slowed his... but that wasn't how things worked. One thing more than anything else that concerned her though was who would look after Denzel once she was gone. Marlene and Cloud might cope without her, maybe, and then perhaps Barrett would come back to help take care of them. Though he'd probably take Marlene away with him once Denzel had... once he'd joined her... and then leave Cloud all on his own. All on his own? That worried her the most.

Could Cloud really cope on his own?

She squirmed on the bed as her insides twisted and convulsed at whatever it was the geostigma was doing to her. She had laid down on her bed in the sunshine and somehow fallen asleep. Now she was in so much pain, so much more pain.

When the pain had passed she pushed herself up promptly from the bed and took the top blanket with her at the same time. Blanket in the washing machine; herself in the shower. It was all washed away. The bandages were burnt to ashes; new, white bandages were used to replaced them. No one would know. No one would ever know until she had died what she had gone through everyday. But she wasn't playing the martyr, she was trying to save the despair of others who cared about her. It was worth it. Nothing was more important than them.

* * *

Another afternoon, just. It was sunny. Cloud was home sorting through the previous month's invoices and the children were helping around the bar. There were few customers sat around the tables and chairs but it was a Sunday afternoon, after all.

Cloud had been watching Tifa from his corner of the room. He had positioned himself just right so that he could see most of her when she served behind the bar, and could see her clearly wherever she was serving customers at the tables. To him she seemed fine, with the great exceptions that there was something dull in her skin tone, her smile and her usually warm and bright eyes. Things like that bothered him. It was little, but she was also going out of her way, maybe on a subconscious level, to avoid using her left arm over her right. He had also noticed that she had lost some weight. She was thinner and her cheeks were more sunken than he'd ever seen them. It was beginning to alarm him every time he looked at her.

There was a pause in orders so she rested on the bar a little, like she would usually do. It was nothing out of the ordinary, or at least at first. She had seemed preoccupied observing the customers to make sure they were okay, but then her gaze grew distant and thoughtful. It had hit him like a slap round the face when her facial expression had changed to the extent that she looked so sad she looked like she was in pain. He leaned forward in his seat. Her expression then turned to a resistant grimace; she frowned intensely, her eyes squinted, she breathed in sharply through her mouth and then locked her jaw. Her arms were tightly wrapping around her body.

"Could we get a glass of water?" a couple called from a table.

Her eyes snapped open and she gave a nod, it was overly gentle and forced. She pried her arms away from her sides with an apparent amount of effort and then disappeared quickly into the storeroom, the whole time her posture being rigid, stiff and upright. Why would she go to the storeroom for just a glass of water? She came back several minutes later with two bottles of mineral water. It made more sense to him now, but how could it have taken her so long to find the bottles? She was usually so organised.

She poured the glass of still water and added some ice. Marlene came over enthusiastically to take it from her when she was finished. He watched Tifa then lean back on the bar surface. He was relieved to see the glimmer of a warm smile back on her face but then it went disturbingly sad again. More important than that though, whatever it was that had caused her to tense up so much was now gone. What had been wrong? He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms over his chest as he went deep into thought. Was she sick?

"I'm just going to go check that the washing's done, okay?" she said to Marlene when she had skipped back.

Marlene gave a little nod and took up a more eager view of the customers from her side of the bar as Tifa slipped off to the garage. Cloud's eyes followed her, and then so did his feet.

Entering the garage Tifa checked over her shoulder quickly and then walked over to the washing machine. The sheets inside were wet, clean and evidence-free as usual. She tossed them into the dryer and set the dials to the normal settings before pressing the "on" button. She unzipped her black vest and lifted up her top to glance at her left side. The bandage needed to be changed but otherwise it only appeared as a dusky gray underneath the white top and that was okay. It wasn't too noticeable. It had been worse before. She climbed on top of the dryer with one knee and and began to reach for the extra box of bandages that she had hidden behind the soap powders, her top stretching over the folds of bandages round her waist as she did so.

"Tifa!"

Her breath caught in her throat. He was charging through the door and down the steps to where she was knelt. It was fast, too fast. He grabbed her, pulled her down, and his right hand flew up her top as the other pinned her hard against the machine.

"Cloud -"

She was silenced by the haunted way his hand was tracing under her top and over the folds of the bandages. Down his fingers went from her shoulder, her arm, and down the curve of her waist. He didn't look at her, and she had to control herself from crying out as an empty, gaunt look filled his features.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered.

It took her a long moment to answer.

"I didn't want you to hurt you," she replied honestly.

His eyes met hers, his right hand still resting lightly on the dark gray. His hand shifted and stroked away a tear that had fallen down her cheek. Her eyes were no longer dull, they were full, warming, red and emotional. Looking into her eyes tore down his walls of anger, and the feelings welling in his heart overruled. Bringing his arms around her he pulled her into a tight, reassuring embrace. Her own arms came underneath his and she hugged him back, burying silent sobs into his shoulder which only made him hold her tighter, more desperately. The realisation was quick but numb for him: he loved her more than anything and now he was going to lose her. This was one thing he couldn't protect her from, and fate had thrown it straight at his face in mockery. Geostigma meant death, a slow, painful death, and Tifa was already half-way there.


	4. Gone

**Gone**

_This disease..._

_Why did it chose Denzel?_

_Why did it chose me?_

_No, I know why but..._

_Things are getting harder now, though I won't admit it to the others._

_Who am I to admit I'm in pain when there's a nine-year-old boy who's been suffering much longer than I have just in the room over? I am nobody to say anything._

_I avoid the TV and radio because I don't want to hear about any more cases or deaths, for my sake as well as my family's. As much as I hate to admit it I know I have limits, and I won't bring those I care about down with me if I happen to break. I certainly won't help induce it._

_In the end, Cloud, Denzel, Marlene, Barrett and the rest of Avalanche are too precious to me to worry more than I have to. At least Cloud has found out. Telling the children will be different though and in truth, a part of my hopes they will never have to know. Surely children that young should never have to find out about something like this._

* * *

A clatter, crash, and hushed curse later Tifa found herself looking into the hazelnut eyes of Denzel, who looked guiltily back into hers as soap suds and fragments of a ceramic plate covered the kitchen floor at his feet. She simply smiled.

"You shouldn't curse, Denzel," she said in her motherly tone and began to pick up the larger pieces of plate. He bent down to help her.

"No, no, no. You're dropping things because you're tired. Go upstairs and rest."

"But -"

"Go on. I can handle this myself." When she saw his guilty expression she added, "I'd rather you rest than look at me like that again."

As she bent down with a dustpan and brush to sweep away the smaller fragments it wasn't long before she felt hazelnut eyes still staring at her.

"What is it?"

Denzel shifted uncomfortably on his feet, though his gaze remained strongly locked on her. "You're tired, too."

For a moment Tifa couldn't say anything.

"You move slower," he mumbled, "and sometimes you look like you're about to pass out, though I don't think you notice."

She did notice, though she also thought she'd been hiding it pretty well.

"Maybe you should rest, too." It had been an innocent request.

* * *

"Cloud, is Tifa sick?" Marlene asked from beside his elbow, too short to reach the full height of his chair.

Cloud stared blankly into space for a moment before swivelling to face her. He placed a kind hand on her head. "Tifa will be okay."

Marlene looked carefully at him, distrusting his calmness.

"Don't tell her this but I want you to look out for her," he said with a tinge of pleading in his voice.

Marlene was taken back, but nodded her head under the weight of his hand. It didn't matter what the problem really was, she'd always look out for Tifa. Ever since she'd noticed a change in her, how worn down she had become, it hadn't taken long for her to guess something was wrong. As a child, she guessed she'd be the last one to know what it was that was bothering Tifa. Adults were just secretive like that.

* * *

It didn't matter whether she was about to drop something, feeling faint under the burden of the constant pain, or zoning out from tiredness, Cloud was always suddenly right there next to her. One afternoon a glass had simply slipped through her fingers and the next thing his blond hair was bobbing up from behind the counter, his hand holding it. She would say sorry. He would tell her not to be and walk back to his corner of the room, a spot he barely left nowadays.

She felt guilty for keeping him away from his deliveries, even if he did still do one or two during the day. Again, she would say sorry and he would tell her not to be. The children had grown a keen eye for following her movements as well, and that made her nervous. Another thing was that Marlene had developed a habit of insisting on doing the menial tasks she had previously avoided. Tifa would say things like, "It's okay, Marlene, you should go up to bed," only for Marlene to reply, "I live in this house too and I want to do my share of the work!" and get stuck into whatever task it was before Tifa could object again. On top of all this, Denzel continued to remind her of how tired she looked.

Thankfully the attacks weren't so violent now, or so abrupt. Instead of the spontaneous jarring that would temporarily render her whole body a nervous, desperate wreck, the pain was more constant. A hammering pins and needles feeling more prominent in her side, around her tummy and through her shoulder than anywhere else. It could also sometimes feel like a numbing, throbbing ache, and at other times a rough grating of sandpaper against her bare flesh. It varied. Either way, from what she knew due to hearsay and the radio that she now avoided, she had entered a later stage in this incurable disease. In the next stage she would be bedridden.

Swallowing hard she bowed her head between her forearms where they lay on the bar. Her hair tickled the ingrains in the wood. Her torso felt like a heavy and unshakable weight shackled around whatever it was that was meant to be there instead. Vacant eyes turned towards the ceiling. She had survived four months and counting.

A familiar set of footsteps came down the stairs and came to stand beside her. Cloud mirrored her position on the bar and then looked forwards into nothing. A few peaceful moments passed.

"What's wrong?"

Her shoulders nearly caved inwards at the question. There was so much that was wrong, but she felt it would be selfish to confess it. Instead she turned her vacant eyes towards the floor.

"Stop apologizing, Tifa. We all care about you, so just say thank you."

Her breath caught and she made to say something but it died in her throat. Sighing and rearranging the words in her head she said, "Thank you."

"I told I'd always be there to remind you of how cheerful and strong you are," he shrugged.

Invisible strings suddenly began to knit together the resolve to live in her heart. She almost felt lighter, remembering how she used to be. For the first time in months she genuinely smiled. "Thank you," she said again.

He brought her into his arms, his embrace becoming more like a cradle as she rocked into his warmth and comfort. "Never give up," he whispered.

* * *

The number of times she'd had to support herself on the bar had become countless weeks ago. There would be moments where the world would blur and appear to suck inwards and towards her as if she was a huge vacuum of reality. In moments like that she guessed that to other people she looked as if she was having a bad zone-out, or, as Denzel had called it, looking as if she was about to pass out. Patrons were commenting more frequently that she looked unwell, usually having caught her in such an episode. Nonetheless she would shrug it off with a smile. She couldn't afford to lose customers, certainly not right now.

But then Cloud suggested she stop working.

"Why would I do that?"

"You're not well, Tifa. You can't keep this up."

Her hands clenched around a glass. "I'm still moving, aren't I?"

He unfolded his arms and tried to catch her eye, but she was ignoring him. "It would be best for you."

"And what about everyone else? We're hardly making enough money as it is." She decided against highlighting it was mainly due to his neglect of his own job. After all, he was doing it for her. "If I can still work I will."

She didn't miss his sigh, a sign of defeat. "I have a delivery to make to North Corel tomorrow."

She simply nodded. "So you'll be off early. I'll leave your lunch in the fridge, if you like."

He cast one last gaze in her direction before pushing off from the counter. "Sure. That'd be great."

* * *

Sprinkling the last of the tarragon on the chicken she slid the tray into the hot depths of the oven. The hot air pouring out made her head dizzy and clouded. She fanned the inconvenient feeling away with an oven glove before slamming it into the kitchen surface. The hard smacking sound took her by surprise. It wasn't like her to be short-tempered.

Moving back into the bar area she scanned the floor for new customers but there were none. Marlene was standing by the door looking into the street outside, ready to enthusiastically welcome patrons into the restaurant. Denzel was in the garage doing something mechanical Cloud had set him to do, probably to do with Fenrir. The windows were slightly hazy with condensation from the colder temperatures on the other side of the glass. The fans span round lazily on their fixtures to the ceiling. Tifa shivered.

"_What's wrong?" _she heard Cloud say in her head.

"_Nothings wrong," _she had wanted to say. She then remembered the watchful glances that Cloud cast from his now vacant corner.

"_Stop apologizing, Tifa. We all care about you, so just say thank you... I told I'd always be there to remind you of how cheerful and strong you are." _She was so lucky to have him, she thought to herself.

Then she remembered something else he had said_, "You can't keep this up." _It struck a sour taste in her mouth.

"_Yes I can," _she muttered under her breath.

"_You're not well, Tifa."_

She grit her teeth. "I'm not going to die just yet." Tears began to form in her eyes.

"_We all care about you..."_

"Exactly!"

Her flesh burnt red-hot. Her pupils constricted hard to slits. The bar shook, distorted. The windows shattered in her ears and the ground began to swallow her up from beneath. She lost all feeling of her legs as they crumpled. Her blood boiled as the thick, dark, putrid puss shot through her veins, skin and slammed against her organs. She couldn't feel the ground, she couldn't breathe the air and then suddenly everything was quiet except for the sound of her own laboured breathing. Her eyes were already closed. Her consciousness passed on.


	5. Unreachable

**Unreachable**

"Bar's closed."

The patrons regarded Cloud with a quick understanding as they moved from their seats. He had had a bad feeling driving home. It seemed he had got back just in time. With Tifa's still body already in his arms he moved from the openness of the bar to their bedroom. He lay her carefully on the bed and closed the blinds. As she struggled silently to stay alive, he watched helplessly from their bedside. The way her hands quivered almost unnoticeable reminded him of when he found Denzel, an unconscious lump lying on the ground outside of Aerith's church. He exhaled silently as he saw that the stigma had now slivered in thin line up her neck. Marlene stood in the doorway watching him.

"Marlene, look after Tifa." He stepped passed her and back into the hallway.

Marlene pulled on the door until it was just ajar and took a seat on the chair adjacent to the bed. Tifa didn't stir.

"Why didn't you tell us you were sick, Tifa?"

In his office Cloud rustled through his draws for the books and notes he'd been studying. Paper flew in erratic directions in his impatience. Finally, he had them all and laid them across the desk, turning each of their covers over to their first page. He began to dial the numbers of each author and professor. It was only on the last number that he got through.

"Have there been any other developments since you published this book?"

There was a pause on the other end. "No."

"You still can't tell people how to even slow it down?"

"No, we don't know enough yet."

Fingernail marks were forming in the polished wood of Cloud's desk. He spoke a single word, "When?"

"There's no way to tell when we'll know more. I can't give you any more information beyond what we already know. I'm sorry."

Cloud sucked the air in through his teeth quickly. He forced the angry tension coursing through his body to dissolve before calmly placing the phone back onto its charger. The books, all the knowledge he had tried to gather, lay useless in front of him. A part of him wanted to laugh. It seemed the world's hero was a complete failure.

* * *

Everything felt heavy, as if bars of lead had been strapped to every limb. All her other senses were dull and foggy, much like how she recalled the flu feeling like. She pulled on her arms and shoulders with invisible strings attached to her joints and tilted her back upwards to counterbalance her weight. More slow manoeuvres later and she was sat upright on her bed, adjusting to the peculiar feeling of hardly being able to move. She know she shouldn't, but she wanted to get out of bed. After all, it wasn't as if her legs were broken.

She clutched at the side of her bedside table and pushed herself upwards, feeling her legs unfolding beneath her naturally, almost with a mind of their own. She reached for the bed post nearest the door and snatched at it, her system still adjusting to being upright again. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. For someone so ill, she had to confess her reflection could look worse. Maybe Marlene had been brushing her hair while she slept. Marlene... She didn't deserve all this.

Reaching the door Tifa rested her forehead on the flat surface, keeping her balance by gripping the doorknob. Her head was swimming in dark fog but it would soon subside, she hoped. When it eventually did she felt control over her legs increase a little more and she walked slowly into the hallway.

"You're up!" Marlene emerged from the stairs carrying a wet towel for Denzel, probably bedridden himself. It seemed all duties relating to taking care of Denzel were now resting on the little girl.

"Yeah..." Tifa was tried to smile but it was too much effort. "How's Denzel?"

"He's fine," Marlene nodded.

Tifa continued to look at her while the girl kept up her own gaze.

"You should be in bed too, Tifa."

It felt like a punch to the stomach. "But what about you, Marlene? You shouldn't really be here alone with us. Have you spoken to Barrett?"

Marlene's eyes darkened a little. "And leave you both here on your own? I'm not doing that!"

"Marlene..."

"We're a family, remember?"

"Yes but -"

"I'm going to stay here because I know you'd both do the same for me!" Hot tears began to roll down her cheeks.

" But, Marlene, you have to -" Marlene had already disappeared into Denzel's room, slamming the door behind her. Burying her face into her pasty palms Tifa exhaled a long, careful breath. This wasn't a battle she could win in her current state.

She looked to the door on her right. Cloud's office door was open as it always was. She reached across to the door frame for support and walked inside. First her eyes spotted their family picture, showing herself back when she was up and running around like the busy person she'd always been. Cloud looked withdrawn and was standing back a little from the rest of them, but there was something in the way that he was standing that made her feel as if he would have dived out in front of them at any moment to protect them from danger. Then there was Denzel to her right looking bashful. On her left was Marlene, smiling cheerfully.

Pulling her eyes from the framed picture she then looked at all the photos Cloud had been pinned on his wall, pictures of familiar places he'd been on his deliveries. Places she'd probably never go to again. She looked at the phone and a needy feeling came over her. She reached for the handset while lowering herself into Cloud's chair. Staring at the number pad, she wondered what she would say to him if he picked up. For a moment she doubted if she should even try. She began to pull one of her hands back to tuck her hair behind her ear when she spotted the title of one of the books her fingers were dragging over, "Geostigma: Research, Symptoms and Possible Causes". She pushed the book out of the way with her finger tips and saw the dozens of other books like it, all open at diagrams and illustrations, Cloud's notes sprawled all over the pages. The ink smudged and magnified as one of her tears fell onto them. She shook away her fear of contacting him.

She remembered Cloud's presence by her bedside when he had last spoken to her, even though he must have known she couldn't hear what he was saying. She remembered the ghostly and smudged image of his last smile as she'd felt someone caressing her face.

_Tifa wondered if that smile he had shown her had been an illusion. She brushed away the dust on the family photo they had taken and then tried calling him. After several rings the messaging service took over..._


	6. Eternally Cold

**Author's note:** I've got a lot of lovely support for this story. So thank you so much to all my reviewers. I hope you enjoy the ending. You make writing these stories worth it. :)

* * *

**Eternally Cold**

It all started with a phone call from Reno. Shinra and the Turks were looking for Cloud though the reason wasn't properly specified. She rang Cloud up only moments later, by now aware that he was consciously ignoring her calls. That or something had happened to him (she had no way of knowing). She told him to be careful. All the while she had bit back the want to scream his name and demand that he pick up. Was he okay? Was he eating well? Was he sleeping? Had been angry at her all this time? Was he coming back? Did even he care that she was dying? Did he care about any of them any more?

Instead she had said quietly, "Cloud, how've you been?" and hung up.

Then everything else had happened all in a rush, at least in the fogged-up eyes of Tifa. Marlene had got tired, frustrated with her family in its pathetic display of splintering itself all over the floor of her childhood. With Tifa's full-effort but half-lifeless help she had ensured Denzel would be okay for a few hours by himself and then dragged her female guardian out of the back door. Her pale, porcelain-like skin catching Marlene off guard in the sunlight. However her resolution had held fast. She knew what she had to do. She would find Cloud, bring him home and force him to take care of Tifa in her last moments. Denzel would survive a little longer but Tifa would not. She at least deserved him by her side when she finally went to peace.

Of all places it had escaped Tifa's lips almost unwillingly that he may be at the church. With a serious, tensioned look of concentration Marlene had led the way religiously holding Tifa's hand. She was like a half-person. Already half a phantom lost in the mist of exhaustion, heart ache and death.

_How could you leave us? _Marlene cursed under her breath.

When Marlene had pushed through the heavy doors of the church she had found Cloud's sleeping bag, lantern, a large chest and a patch of pretty flowers that reminded her of a girl with large, emerald eyes and long, curling, brown hair. Tifa had sat quietly against one of the pillars covering herself awkwardly with a light, square cardigan. Marlene felt a kick to her gut. _She's cold, _she realised.

She began to scope Cloud's belongings for any sign of where he may -

The door flung open. Large, leather boots smacked heavily into the stone floor of the church. Immediately both of the visitors got to their feet. The man who entered was a far cry from Cloud's blond spikes and shy smiles. Before Marlene could gasp, Tifa had pulled her under her protection. The only problem with this picture, Marlene had thought to herself, was that Tifa was in no more of a state to protect them than herself.

As silver hair and inhuman eyes gazed at them both mockingly the world began to fizzle out in the adrenaline rush of fear. Marlene panicked. Cloud should be there to protect them, her mind chanted. Where was he?

"Cloud..." she whispered.

The sunlight dimmed as her guardian and the inhuman brute squared up to fight one another. Clenching her jaw and closing her eyes, it hadn't been enough to shut out Tifa's cries of pain. Cloud hadn't come in time, Marlene sighed, devastated as heavy boots began to walk towards her. _And now Tifa is__ –_

A large hand grabbed her by the collar and she felt her body go limp. A single tear fell from her cheek. She lost hope.

* * *

In the pretty, warm light of day filtering through the church's roof Tifa lay deadly still. Delicate flowers were crushed underfoot as a confused, shaken man rushed to her side. The sight chilled and then burned Cloud's bones all the way to the ends of his nerves. Tifa. Dead. He had almost howled out her name in anguish. Why here? Why now? At least she had found him. The rest of the world simply did not matter any more. At least now she was -

"You're late..." The words had barely disturbed the molecules of air surrounding her tongue.

His heart constricted and burst into millions shards all at once. Tifa. Alive.

Dark, sickening, murderous intent suddenly captured him, arching his shoulders to hold her closer. "Who did this?"

She had fallen silent again. Like a frail, paper doll. There wasn't enough substance to keep her conscious any longer. Waking hours had fizzled out for her. She would sleep a little longer as a warm human being and then... she would grow cold, stiff and eternally silent.

The fresh disease that had cursed almost his whole family began to bubble up in his arm. He, too, had succumbed to the despair of possibly losing a loved one. Two, in fact, and he had predicted the contraction of his illness long before it had taken him. Now the horrible pussy globules pushed through the fabric of his gloves and soiled the sleeve he wore on his left arm. _If I survive this_, he thought to himself, _Kadaj and the rest will pay_.

When he re-awoke next to Tifa's silent, ghostly-white form, both of them lying upon the beds of their adopted children, he needed no other motivation to tear all his enemies limb from limb. He was dying himself now too, yes, but that didn't mean he couldn't get his revenge, force Sephiroth's remnants to face their penance for the damage they had caused. He know knew it was them, their fault that planet was inflicting geostigma on all those he loved, thanks to Rufus Shinra. If he was to die, he would do it causing them a fraction of the pain he now felt. He left silently, picking up his large swords on the way out. Reno and Rude had watched him without a word and shared a nod of understanding. Cloud was going to do this on his own.

* * *

He thought of them all. When he saved Marlene and returned her to Seventh Heaven to stay with Denzel he thought of all the good memories he had had with his family. When the rest of AVALANCHE banded together to help him defeat Bahamut Sin, he had thought of the family photo he still kept on his desk and how he'd like a big photo of all of them together, too. He had also thought of Zack and Aerith. Aerith curing his disease with holy rain before he went off to face Sephiroth, and Zack giving him the final push in the golden moment where he doubted himself. He thought of everyone he had disappointed and everyone he had tried to save over the years and failed. Holding these memories firmly in his head he had stared hard into Sephiroth's eyes and then dealt the final blow.

Sephiroth had fell, disintegrated, Kadaj and the others having the same fate. Anger. Relief. Pain! Two of the remnants had still been alive. One of them had dropped his gun noisily to the ground behind him. Burning, bloody flesh lay underneath his clutching hands at his chest. But his grimace of agony had turned to a scowl. He turned, roared and then the sky exploded into thousands of tiny white lights. His lifetime had faded to darkness. It was all over.

But that had not been so. In the white haze of ambiguity that cloaked itself around him, Aerith's motherly touch had caressed his forehead and her voice had told him he was not ready. Zack had laughed warmly in the background. Together they had promised it was okay to go back and, with little control over his fate, Cloud was returned to the living world.

A cooling, soothing sensation then flowed beneath his shoulders and through his hair. Fresh moist air tickled the insides of his nose and his eyelids flickered apart. Bright sunshine, he observed, falling through the roof of Aerith's church. He now felt light, unburdened, reborn. He righted-himself and gazed at the smiling faces surrounding him in the water.

He recognised that he was alive. "I'm back," he nodded.

"There are still others with the stigma," his friend, Nankai said.

He had spotted Denzel hiding behind the others._ I can cure him_, he realised. Scooping up some of the water that surrounded him, he allowed it to fall on Denzel's forehead. The cool water instantly dissolving away his bruising. Sparks of warmth, sweetness and life filled the young boys eyes. Denzel was free from death and he jumped, grinning at the others and especially at Marlene.

Then, as he felt Aerith's and Zack's calming presences leave he knew he would be okay. But – there was one person he still needed to see. Tifa, somewhere, was still dying and barely a thread away from leaving him forever.

He launched himself from the water. The others watched him as he explained, "There's one more person I have to save." And he sped off out of the ruins of Midgar.

A clear vial of liquid was gripped lightly in his nervous hands. Would it work? Her infliction was great, covering most of her body now. He simply had one vial of liquid, all he was able to carry. There was no time to move her to the church and he knew it. He popped the top off of the vial carefully. It all felt like a ritual. _I'm swapping my self-doubt for her life_, he laughed bitterly in his head. It was a ridiculously small sacrifice to pay. He'd have to do more than that, he imagined, to eventually make up for it. Then, as he spread the liquid sparingly over the bruises of death in her flesh, he felt the growing warmth of her skin sinking into his finger tips. Her cheeks began to regain their color. Her tummy was now clear of discoloration and the spreading of healthy color continued. Her breathing had gradually deepened from barely audible to healthy and greedy. Fast, little breaths began to snatch at her lungs. Shock, he realised.

"Cloud!" she gasped. She emerged from her sleep shaking violently. He clutched her to his chest as she began to cry. "I..."

He pulled her tighter against him, silencing her strangled chokes. "You're going to be okay," he said calmly and felt her chest heave in disbelief.

"This is a dream. A final vision before I disappear." Her voice was laced with sadness and stinging with resentment at his impossible, hopeful words.

He chuckled as he allowed a warm smile to tug at his lips. He tried his best to suppress it, though, for her sake. "Denzel and Marlene are waiting back at the church." He tucked several long strands of dark hair behind her ear and then tilted her face up to look at him. "I'm not a vision."

Tears had pooled at the corners of her eyes, not quite falling. "I... was so close. How did you...? I don't believe you."

He kissed her forehead softly and hugged her close until she closed her eyes.

"This is real, isn't it?" she uttered, scared that saying it would shatter the illusion of reality. She curled into the nook of his neck and the swell of his chest. It was all over, Cloud thought to himself.

"Yes, it's real." And as the front door began to open and he heard the light footsteps of their adopted children downstairs he sighed gratefully. _I have my family back._


End file.
